The Illusion of Denial
by MochiUs
Summary: Izuku Midoriya just wanted to thank his boyfriend for the flowers. It's harder than you think.


**A/N: Hi! This is the sequel to my other story White and Yellow Daisies. Thank you for reading and hopefully you like it!**

The doorbell rang.

Katsuki heard it, but he chose to ignore it.

After a couple of moments, the doorbell rang again.

His mother's shrill voice echoed down the hall. "Open the damn door, you brat!"

Katsuki clicked his tongue; he was actually comfortable in his bed until an inconsiderate bastard ruined the peace and quiet. They weren't expecting visitors this evening. He grumbled under his breath, stomping toward the stupid door to greet the stupid visitor.

"Who is it?" he growled as he wrenched it open.

Lo and behold, there was Izuku, flushed and beautiful as ever. Thankfully, he wore thicker clothes compared to the ones he wore on their date.

"H-hi Kacc-"

His lips still looked swollen and red from their previous actions. Even worse, the moonlight gave him an ethereal halo. Katsuki slammed the door at his face.

Then the blasted doorbell rang again.

His mother gave an unholy screech. "I SWEAR TO GOD KATSUKI IF YOU DON'T OPEN THAT DOOR-"

"I'M GETTING THERE OLD HAG," he yelled back.

He gritted his teeth; a pounding headache was just at the horizon. Inhale through the nose, he told himself, and then exhale through the mouth. For what felt like hours, he finally opened the door once more and glared at his boyfriend's immaculate face.

If he wasn't so in love with the nerd, he would have exploded his cheeky smile.

Izuku shyly waved. "Hi Kacchan," he said, teetering back and forth as if he had no precise goal for this visit.

Katsuki was immediately suspicious and squinted, checking for any clues. He did not beat around the bush. "What do you want?" he asked as he closed the door and stepped into Izuku's space.

If he wasn't suspicious before, he was now with the way Izuku flushed, gesticulating in all directions in order to find the correct assemble of words. To put it simply, what came out of his mouth was a garbled mess.

"Well, ah, you see, I was very flattered that you got me floors, I mean, flowers," he winced, "So I wanted to come down here to, um, thank you since I didn't get to, um, do so earlier since of course you didn't really, heh, give them to me firsthand, so-"

Katsuki slapped his hand over his overflowing mouth to cease the onslaught, which he regretted afterward because Izuku licked his hand in retaliation. Katsuki elbowed him in the ribs as punishment while wiping the saliva on his pants.

"Fucking gross!" he wrinkled his nose as he said that. Next, he clenched his fists and lightly punched his boyfriend's shoulder.

He demanded an answer. "What was that for?!"

"Well, you shouldn't have put your hand on my mouth without permission."

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have if you were straightforward," he snapped back.

They were at a standstill, with eyes locked and feet planted on the ground. Izuku's lips thinned into a straight line, miffed and annoyed with his boyfriend's behavior, but Katsuki made a valid point. He knew better than to provoke him like this. He should have said what he wanted to say right at the beginning.

The silence was palpable. The night was still young.

Izuku sighed. He knew when to pick his fights, and this fight wasn't worth it. "You're right," he said. "I wasn't being direct with you."

He reached out and grabbed Katsuki's hand and observed the contrast between the scars littering their hands. For him, it was proof of his battles, his struggles to master his quirk. For Katsuki, it was proof of his recklessness, his insatiable hunger to become number one. However, despite these miniscule differences, they both received their scars through the same outlet: their quirks. Their goals were the same. Their motivation was the same, which explained why they were so attracted to the other, just like moths to a flame.

"I came here to tell you," Izuku paused and stared back into Katsuki's soulful, passionate eyes, "I came here to tell you thank you… for the flowers."

The air was sweet. The night was still young. Though Izuku was not a fully certified master of reading the atmosphere, he was almost certain they were about to lean in and kiss. Then Katsuki had to be a dick and killed the mood.

"What flowers?" he said.

He looked angry and almost downright insulted that Izuku insinuated such a preposterous thing. It would have been preposterous, too, except for the fact that it was the truth.

"Flowers," Izuku repeated. "You gave me flowers. White and yellow daisies to be more specific," he said.

"No, I didn't give you any stupid flowers," he vehemently denied.

"Yeah," Izuku rebuked. "You did."

Katsuki bumped his chest against his. "No, I didn't," he said more forcefully.

Izuku looked at him, _really_ looked at him.

"You can't be serious," he said in disbelief.

"Well," Katsuki said with a stony face, "I am."

Izuku tried a different approach. With a gentler voice, he decided to say, "You don't have to be embarrassed about the flowers, Kacchan." He praised, "I love them. I really do."

However, Katsuki was a stubborn and hard-headed man. Typically, flattery goes a long way, but in this case, flattery will get you nowhere.

Instead of admitting that he did in fact buy him flowers, Katsuki leaned in, unromantically Izuku would like to add, and replied in clear, punctuated words, "I. Did not. Give you. Any. Shitty. Flowers."

"I have proof!"

Izuku dug his hand into one of his pockets to fish for the evidence. Once his fingers grabbed hold of the slip of paper, he flashed it in front of the blond's face with conviction.

"See!" he said with surety and a victorious gleam. "This came with the bouquet and it-"

Katsuki snatched the damning evidence away from him and exploded it with his quirk right then and there. All that was left of the card was now ashes and soot, which Katsuki crumbled away into dust.

"Seriously?" Izuku whined. "Why did you explode the card?"

"What card?"

"Real mature, Kacchan, real mature," he deadpanned.

Katsuki opened his mouth to give his nerd a piece of his mind until vicious nails clawed deep into his scalp. His instincts screamed danger as he stared back at Izuku, hoping his boyfriend could give him a reassuring smile, but those thoughts were dashed as the boy blanched at the figure behind him.

A sweet, honeyed voice interrupted their argument.

"Boys," Katsuki's mother called out with a calm, serene face. "Although I'm glad you lovebirds finally got your shit together, can you please not fight in the middle of the night?" Katsuki hissed as his mother's nails dug deeper. "We don't want to wake the neighbors, do we?"

Both boys were aware Katsuki inherited his explosive nature from his dear mother, and they were also aware that when Katsuki was calm and collected, just like his mother right now, there was absolute hell to pay.

The blood was drained from their faces.

Even though Katsuki suspected that his mother showed a favorable side to Izuku whenever he visited, that side was currently not present behind the menacing aura emitting from the she-demon. There was a reason why she was the matriarch of the Bakugo household, and she often won her battles not with her sharp tongue or displays of strength but with the coolness radiating from her exterior.

Izuku insistently nodded his head. "Y-yes Auntie," his voice wavered. "I apologize for the noise," he bowed lowly.

Katsuki clicked his tongue. What an ass kisser.

He flinched as his mother roughly ruffled his hair, or in other words, scraping the skin of his head with her well-manicured nails. The pain stung a bit, but it was nothing to sweat over.

"That's alright, Izuku-kun," she cooed, and gross. Katsuki would have gagged by how fake she sounded. "Just be quick, ok?" she said and released her hold on his head.

"Yes!" he said earnestly, and his mother plastered on a smug smile. "Have a good night," she said condescendingly, as if she expected them to kiss and make out once they were out of her sight.

"Good night!"

Katsuki fumed, but he couldn't even tell her to not get any wrong ideas because she had already closed the door on his face.

"Well," Izuku fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I'm sorry for bothering you about the flowers," he sighed. "Forget about what I said earlier," he continued and turned to leave.

His shoulders were hunched and drooped. Pain stabbed in his chest. However, he told himself that it would eventually subside. Time, after all, can heal all wounds. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, he berated himself. Katsuki was too emotionally constipated to be honest with his feelings; it was a miracle he accepted the terms of their date in the first place. He had to be patient, he reminded himself. Katsuki was a difficult man, but he was worth it.

He was always worth it.

Before he made his first step into the sidewalk, Katsuki called out his name. If there was one aspect of Katsuki he had forgotten, it was his innate ability to surprise him when he least expected it.

"Why do you look sad?" he pressed as he held Izuku's wrist, his face searching and befuddled.

An emotion welled up in Izuku's throat, his eyes shimmering beneath the moonlight. His breath hitched as he watched Katsuki's concern conveyed through his expression. The crease in his eyebrows. The frown marring his beautiful face. Even though Izuku's ever observant eyes followed and trailed after his childhood friend throughout the years, there are still new faces he has yet to learn.

"I just don't understand…" Izuku looked away. "I don't understand why you didn't want to admit that you gave me those flowers."

Disappointment sat at his core as he saw Katsuki scrunched his face. He looked as if he smelled a rancid smell, and Izuku was ready to apologize and drop the subject once and for all.

However, even though it looked as if it physically pained him to say it, he muttered under his breath, "I gave you those flowers."

Time stopped. Crickets chirped. The breeze caressed his hair.

Katsuki continued, "I bought those stupid daisies on a whim, but I threw them away because I felt lame."

His cheeks burned, and admitting his true feelings out in the open added fuel to the fire. Izuku stood there surprised, his mouth gaping open. His heart skipped a beat, his pulse unstable and erratic. Katsuki was already easy on the eyes and automatically considered one of the most handsome students in high school. However, his typical standoffish presentation in school could not compare to the way he presented himself now. Izuku didn't know it was possible, but he looked even more attractive and more desirable now, embarrassed over a simple bouquet of flowers. Best of all, Izuku was the only witness to this spectacle.

Yet, this was not the time to dwell on what was obvious. Katsuki still looked vulnerable. He asked, "Are they so important to you that you had to get upset about it?"

The green-haired teen held his breath, trapped and stuck in Katsuki's gaze. The feeling was akin to being hypnotized.

"No," he answered truthfully. "They're not more important than you but…"

 _You make me happy._

 _I'm so blessed to have this._

 _I love you._

Izuku looked up to solemn eyes. They were so close that he just had to lean forward and capture those lips, communicate the want thrumming within him, begging to join their bodies together as if they were separate halves, but he had self-restraint. These feelings had to be conveyed properly. Actions speak louder than words, but their relationship was also an ongoing conversation. There were obstacles and bumps along the way, spanning from their first meeting to their burgeoning romance, and sadly, most of those problems could have been avoided if they decided to talk.

"I loved them," he said with an unwavering voice. "I just wanted to let you know that it's not lame of you to be like this."

"Liar," he said immediately, so certain that his fragile reputation as a delinquent had already collapsed. A weakness is what he would call this. Naming it lame was a euphemism.

Izuku cupped his face with his hands and leaned in until their foreheads touched.

"Kacchan," he said, electricity pulsing in his stark green eyes.

His voice was stern and powerful. Katsuki shook and was once again reminded that the young man before him was not just plain, old Deku but the ninth successor of One for All, a person who All Might himself chose to continue his legacy.

"I would never lie to you," he said, desperate and insistent. "You _know_ me."

That was the scariest part of his statement. Katsuki _knew_ him inside out. Izuku would never lie to him; he couldn't even outright lie to him about the possession of his quirk despite the consequences. He was sincere in his words; genuine in his actions. If he called him brilliant, then he was brilliant. If he called him amazing, then he was amazing.

"You useless romantic," Katsuki scoffed. He wrapped his arms around Izuku and pulled him in, causing Izuku to clumsily stumble forward and pressed against Katsuki's chest.

A slight, teasing laugh escaped from his lips. "I can't believe you liked this stuff," he commented as one of his hands petted through Izuku's curls. "Fine," he resigned. "I'll make an exception and become a bit lame for you."

"You're not-" Izuku wanted to argue, but his protests were muffled as Katsuki tightened his hold.

The fresh scent of his boyfriend's shampoo wafted in the air. Katsuki breathed it in and relaxed, feeling the rhythm of Izuku's rapidly beating heart. He then brushed Izuku's bangs to the side and chastely pressed his lips to his forehead.

"Good night, Izuku," he whispered lovingly in his ear and stepped back, inwardly laughing at Izuku's struck expression, who clapped his hands over his ears in an instant.

"G-good night!" Izuku replied, red-faced and bothered. "Katsuki!" he said with determination as he craned his neck to kiss his cheek.

Unbothered, Katsuki couldn't stop the grin gracing his face as he slowly walked back to his house. Izuku also mirrored his expression as he started his way back home. Both boys were happy. Both boys were in love.

However, Izuku wondered if Katsuki planned to spite him ever since that night because a week later a floral arrangement of considerable proportions stood atop his desk. The vase itself was larger than his head, and altogether, the display was at least half of his size.

He liked it, but not without feeling embarrassed as he lugged it around with him the rest of the school day.


End file.
